


Magnolia Trees

by mirawonderfulstar



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Declarations Of Love, M/M, McCoy is tired and overworked, Misunderstandings, Spock picks a bad time to have a conversation, flowery language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirawonderfulstar/pseuds/mirawonderfulstar
Summary: Spock watched him for several moments, his eyes narrowed. “And how did you know you were in love?”McCoy shook his head. “I don’t know, Spock, sometimes you just know. You look at another person and…” He took another drink of brandy and stared off across the room, thinking how to say what he meant. “It’s like… going home. Obviously you’ve never been to Georgia, but there’s something about the warmth of the sun there, it gives weight to the air. The smell of the trees. It’s… safe and familiar.”





	Magnolia Trees

“Doctor McCoy? I wonder if I might engage you in your capacity as a human psychological expert.” Spock said, poking his head around the door into McCoy’s office. McCoy glanced up from his padd with the results of the latest test he’d run on the antiviral he was working on for the planet of Edarea II. The Enterprise would be there in the next week and he was expected to have developed a cure to whatever disease was killing off the colony by the time they arrived. Oh, he could do it, alright, but he didn’t like the assumption that he would be able to do it in _time_. There were thousands of lives riding on his ability to work a small miracle. It made him anxious. Now wasn’t really the moment for whatever verbal sparring Spock had in mind for him. He simply wasn’t in the mood for it.

“There are a number of other psychologists onboard. I suggest you ‘engage’ one of them. I’d give you a list, but as first officer you probably know who’s on it already.” McCoy said, returning his gaze to his padd.

McCoy could hear the fabric of Spock’s uniform rustle as he shifted in the doorway. “I find myself desiring your opinion specifically.” He said after a moment. _Ah._ McCoy thought, minimizing the file he was reading with a flick of his stylus. This was about Jim, then.

He set the padd down and gestured for Spock to step inside. “Very well, Mr Spock, come in and let the door close.”  Spock took a few steps into the room, then turned sharply and began to pace, not taking McCoy’s offer of a chair across his desk. “Well I see whatever you want to talk about is certainly more interesting than the latest mutation we’re testing in the lab.” McCoy said, raising an eyebrow as he watched Spock pace. Spock’s lips twitched downward and he sat at once.

“My apologies for interrupting your work for Edarea II. I find myself agitated.”

McCoy shrugged. “It’s alright, I was getting tired of staring at that screen anyway.” He stood up and pulled a bottle out of his cabinet and poured himself and Spock both a drink. “Have some of this, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Is that your medical opinion, doctor?” Spock said a touch tersely, but he took the proffered brandy nonetheless. 

“What’s bothering you, Spock?” McCoy said as he sat down and sipped his own drink.

Spock rocked his glass back and forth between his long-fingered hands for several moments, staring down at the liquid within.

“Doctor… you have been in love before, correct?”

McCoy nearly choked on the brandy. This had absolutely not been the direction he’d been expecting this to take but, he thought resignedly, he’d been conscious that it might happen for a while now. Spock and Jim were closer than captain and first officer, closer than friends, maybe even closer than brothers.

“Are you alright?” Spock asked, making to rise from his chair, but McCoy waved for him to sit back down.

“I’m fine, you just surprised me, is all. I… yeah, I’ve been in love before. Her name was Jocelyn.”

Spock watched him for several moments, his eyes narrowed. “And how did you know you were in love?”

McCoy shook his head. “I don’t know, Spock, sometimes you just know. You look at another person and…” He took another drink of brandy and stared off across the room, thinking how to say what he meant. “It’s like… going home. Obviously you’ve never been to Georgia, but there’s something about the warmth of the sun there, it gives weight to the air. The smell of the trees. It’s… safe and familiar.”

McCoy looked up to find Spock watching him with polite confusion. “And being in love reminds you of those things?”

“Of those feelings, certainly.” McCoy said, a little bit self-conscious under Spock’s continued stare. “It’s not necessarily all that romantic stuff, the swelling music and the roses and happy ever after, but that’s nice to have as well. Being in love, _really_ in love, is about knowing you can always ask for forgiveness. Trusting that nothing you do will drive the other person away.” He snorted lightly and took another drink. “That’s not to say you can’t hurt each other, but if you really love them and they really love you, you agree to work through disagreements rather than letting them sour the relationship.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Am I to understand, then, that things ended badly with this Jocelyn?”

McCoy scowled at Spock. “Don’t you try and psychoanalyze me, which one of us is the doctor here?” He drained his glass and shrugged, telling Spock what he wanted to know nonetheless. “We were young and stupid. I was working all the time. She wanted a kid and I was too busy and too much of an ass to see that what she really needed was somebody who was there for her.”

Spock inclined his head. “When did this relationship end?”

“Right after I finished med school.” McCoy sighed. “She got remarried a few years ago. Good thing, too. I don’t regret us ending things but I’ll always regret that Johanna grew up without a daddy.” Spock was giving him a look that McCoy was unused to seeing on him, and he felt very exposed all of a sudden. “Look, I thought you wanted my advice on something, not to hear me whine about my bad choices.”

“You can hardly blame yourself for a relationship you were in nearly twenty years ago. You may have the wisdom to see what was wrong now, but you could not have possessed it then before experiencing the events which brought about the knowledge.”

McCoy shrugged. “Look, you’re here so we can talk about you.”

“Of course. Please forgive me for, ah, prying into your personal matters.”  

“It’s… fine.” McCoy shifted in his chair. “You wanted to know what it feels like to be in love, and I’ve told you what I think. So why don’t you tell me whether you’re in love and when you’re going to talk to Jim about it.”

Spock recoiled in his chair.“Jim?”

“Yes. Don’t think I couldn’t guess who this was all about.” McCoy said with a crooked smile, making to pour himself some more brandy. He wordlessly offered some to Spock, who shook his head.

“You are mistaken, doctor, I can assure you-” Spock began, and McCoy waved an hand at him.

“You don’t have to keep it a secret from me, I’ve been wondering when something was going to happen between you two. The way you look at each other sometimes…” he chuckled. “I don’t think anyone will be surprised.”

Spock straightened in his chair. “I myself will be very surprised, as I have not the slightest romantic interest in the captain.” Spock said coolly. “By your own definition of love, doctor, I would think my intended recipient would have been obvious to you. Even with your positively prehistoric approach to mental processes, I expected you to have more sense. Now, if you don’t mind, I shall be going. Please return to your investigation for Edarea.”

And with that, Spock stood up and strode out of the office. McCoy was left staring after him, utterly bewildered and more than a little hurt. Spock had deliberately sought out his advice about psychology and then told him he wasn’t being sensible! Of all the infernal, green-blooded nonsense! McCoy glared at the half-empty glass of brandy Spock had left and pulled up the reports on his padd again.

 

For the next three days the matter of Spock was pushed to the back of McCoy’s mind as he and his staff worked around the clock on the antiviral. With just a day left until arrival in the Edarea system, they found the cure, which Christine insisted McCoy leave her in charge of producing and distributing on the planet, urging him to get some rest.

“You look absolutely horrific, Leonard.” She chastised him near the end of gamma shift, and he glared at her after scrubbing a hand across his face.

“You just wait until you’re forty, young lady, we’ll see how you look then on four hours of sleep.” He grumbled, and she patted his hand with a smile.

“Go to bed. I’ll see you on beta shift tomorrow, according to the ship's schedule you’re to take the next day off.”

McCoy frowned and glanced over her shoulder at the calendar pulled up on her padd. “That doesn’t look right. I could have sworn I had some appointments scheduled for the morning.”

“You did, but Mr Spock came by a few hours ago to see you and when I told him you would probably bite his head off if he disturbed you he recommended your schedule be rearranged.”

McCoy scowled. “Well, since you and Mr Spock both seem determined to mother me against my will, I suppose I’d better clear out and go back to my quarters.” He rubbed his forehead and glared at Christine. “You be careful down on the planet, you hear?”

“Of course, doctor.” Christine said cheerfully, ushering him out of the door. “Sleep well.”

“’Sleep well’.” McCoy repeated under his breath, stomping towards the turbolift. “By the time I get back someone’ll have burned the place down.” He boarded the turbolift and leaned against the wall as it travelled to his quarters. He really was very tired. He’d just take a quick shower and then get in bed, sleep for a good long while, and go back to work well rested enough to sort out whatever new mess the rest of the ship had made in his absence.

It had really been very good of Spock to make sure he had time to recuperate, McCoy thought as he stripped his clothes off and got into the shower. Especially after the huff he’d left sickbay in earlier in the week. McCoy knew he should apologize to the Vulcan regardless of the actual nature of the offense he’d committed; just because he couldn’t fathom what exactly he’d done to hurt Spock didn’t mean he should let it just sit and fester. He and Spock were friends, and while McCoy had every confidence Spock would forgive him regardless of the transgression, it was hardly reasonable of McCoy to… to…  

Spock’s words seemed to echo around the tiles of the shower amidst the sound of falling water. _By your own definition of love, doctor_ … and what had McCoy said a central part of love was? _Trusting that you could ask for forgiveness_. That you could rely on the other person to still be there after you’d been at your worst, still want to be with you. And how many times over the course of their five year mission had McCoy grievously offended Spock, whether accidentally or on purpose? And how many times had Spock offended McCoy? How many times had they hurt each other? And yet, how many times did they return to normal, to playful bickering and baiting each other?

McCoy bruised his wrist in his haste to get out of the bathroom, pulling on a clean set of pants and an undershirt from his drawers and throwing his boots back on before sprinting out of his quarters and down the hall to the first officer’s quarters. He rapped on the door with the knuckles of his bruised hand, and was wincing and examining the skin where he’d hit the edge of the sink when Spock opened the door and stared down at him.

“Doctor. I was not expecting to see you for at least another day.” Spock stood aside to let him into the room, watching him closely. McCoy stepped inside and flexed his hand, dropping it back to his side. Spock frowned.

“Have you sustained an injury?”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “I hit my hand in the bathroom.”

Spock’s eyes flew to his hair and travelled down his neck. McCoy felt himself flush slightly under Spock’s gaze and raised a hand to flatten his bangs, which he was sure must be sticking up as they dried. Spock reached out a hand and took McCoy’s gently, his dexterous fingers pressing along the area McCoy had bruised.

“Surely you must have known anything you had to say to me could have waited until you were rested.” Spock murmured, and McCoy flushed again, angrily this time.

“No it couldn’t have!” he snapped. “You could have just told me you were in love with me instead of storming out when I jumped to the wrong conclusion, you pointy-eared menace.”

Spock’s fingers stopped moving over his wrist, and he raised an eyebrow, very coldly. McCoy pressed on, undeterred.

“And I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have insisted like that, and I shouldn’t have acted like I knew better because clearly I didn’t know anything at all.” How could he have missed this, he though with some derision, how could he have missed he glaringly obvious fact that he loved Spock? He enjoyed his company despite, or maybe because of, their constant disagreements. He'd risked his life for Spock over and over again, and somewhere along the way his sense of responsibility towards Spock had shifted from that of a shipmate and commanding officer to that of a dear and close friend. He had always found Spock attractive, but in a detached, academic sort of way. When had that changed? McCoy shook his head, taking a tiny step closer to Spock. “Mr Spock, how would you feel if I said I think I might be a little bit in love with you, as well?”

Spock cleared his throat. “I would say, I suppose… to use your own turn of phrase, ‘it’s about damn time’.” And Spock moved forward to kiss him.

McCoy melted against him, relying on Spock to hold him upright because he was utterly lost in the sensation of lips moving over his jaw, his neck, lapping up droplets of water at his hairline. Spock obliged, taking McCoy in his arms and pulling him against his body, wrapping McCoy safely in his embrace. McCoy’s eyes fluttered closed as he completely collapsed against Spock, and the sudden jolt as Spock caught his weight was enough to bring him to his senses.

“Spock, hold on. I’m too tired for this.” McCoy murmured, and Spock drew back at once. He studied McCoy’s face critically for a moment before nodding.

“Indeed. You look as though you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t.” McCoy said, trying to grin but conscious that the effect was probably ruined by stifling a yawn.

Spock nodded. “I see I was right to take you off the duty roster for the next twenty-four hours.” McCoy scowled.

“You know I hate to agree with you but when you’re right, you’re right.”

Spock considered him, still holding him more or less upright. “Would you care to rest here for a while?”

McCoy chuckled. “You mean, will I go to bed with you?”

“Is that not what I asked?”

“I suppose it is.” McCoy sighed and glanced at the small bed in Spock’s quarters. The accommodations aboard starships weren’t exactly designed for more than one person.

“Doctor.” Spock said, none too comfortably, drawing McCoy’s attention back to him. “If I understood correctly that my feelings towards you are returned, am I also to understand that you would like to have intercourse in my quarters?”

McCoy snorted. The rapidity with which Spock could go from suave and seemingly collected to awkward and clinical never ceased to astound McCoy. That was Vulcans for you, he supposed. Vulcan human hybrids. _Spock_. “I’d love to but I’m about a second away from falling asleep standing up right now.”

“Of course.” Spock said, nodding. “Would you like me to carry you to the bed?”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “It’s six feet, Spock. I can walk.”

He extricated himself from Spock’s grasp, sat and took off his boots and pants, and laid back. After a moment, Spock followed suit, pulling the blanket up to drape over them as he went. Spock lay gazing at him, their noses nearly touching, and McCoy planted a kiss on the tip before closing his eyes. He could hear Spock huff a breath of surprise or annoyance and he smiled.

McCoy woke up hours later to find the lights dimmed and Spock wrapped around him, his deep breathing gently tickling the hair under McCoy’s ear. As he drifted back off to sleep he thought, for a moment, he could smell magnolias.

**Author's Note:**

> To get the full effect of this fic, read this poem -- http://nobodysflower.tumblr.com/post/163042883053


End file.
